Treading

I can't even tell you what I want
I am a fetus tucked before being
I'm not quite living,
just waiting to be born.

I am learning if it is possible
to live in a space outside myself.
My soul's maller than a thumbnail
and hums vibrant like an insect.

We are all scouring the unknown,
searching for the sublime in the mundane.
There are days the flesh blinks awake
but then sleeps again to pass the days.

One day, the contents will all spill out,
and there will be an awful noise of spilitting,
of living, of struggling to be birthed.
The sound will crack even the sturdiest of souls.

A splintering, a keening ---
the crazed plans of the all-knowing
someday will be revealed.

We know our own divinity and often fail
to acknowledge it because we are
possessed by the humdrum, waiting too long
to have the courage to know ourselves.

But I am reaching, even if I'm not quite there.
Trying is doing. One step forward is still
one step closer.

One day I'll be fully formed and
know the sight of my true face
without the help of mirrors.

-Jennifer Santos Madriaga